


The Romances of Nanase Haruka

by themorninglark



Category: Free!
Genre: Day Five: Paper, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Haru takes his friendship duties very seriously, M/M, SouRin Week, Style Five AU, unabashed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/themorninglark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I'm going to kill him," Rin swears. "I fucking hate fish. And why'd he give us only one pair of chopsticks?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sousuke, eyebrows raised, merely shrugs in response.</i>
</p><p>(or, The One Where Nanase Haruka, like the good friend he is, locks his vocalist and their bodyguard in a cupboard.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Romances of Nanase Haruka

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SouRin Week, September 2015, Day 5: STYLE FIVE AU (Paper)
> 
> This is the second of the LexyLark SouRin Week collabs! It is, unashamedly, the most ridiculously _shoujo_ thing I've ever written, but that's SouRin for you. We brainstormed much of the ensuing nonsense together and had a lot of fun with this. Please enjoy.
> 
> [Lexy's accompanying art here!](http://bloomejasmine.tumblr.com/post/129351343295/sourinweek-day-5-paper-style-five-another)

_This is the worst_ , thinks Rin, as he lets his fists fall to his side and his shouts trail off, because he's sure as hell not losing his precious voice over something as dumb as this.

Sousuke's leaning against the cupboard wall. He's long stopped hammering on the door along with Rin, and has switched tacks to silent glowering instead, hands in pockets.

"Doing your tough guy stare at the door won't make it break down, you know," Rin points out.

"I know," says Sousuke. He frowns anyway. "My phone is missing."

"Huh?"

Rin reaches into his own pocket as well. When his fingers come up empty, he starts swearing all over again.

"Did Haru swipe our phones?"

"He swiped mine. You left yours on the dressing room table."

Rin scowls, because Sousuke's right, of course, and because Sousuke always notices everything; it's his goddamned _job_ to notice everything about Rin - about the _band_ , Rin hastily corrects himself in his mind -

_Yeah, it's his job, of course. No other reason…_

"Do you think Nagisa put him up to this prank?" Rin mumbles angrily, giving the door a kick for good measure. He comes away with nothing for his efforts but a throbbing toenail. They make these cupboard doors  _really_ sturdy, he's learned, in the space of four minutes and thirty-six seconds.

Sousuke unwinds himself like some kind of dormant predator stirring from rest, straightening his back against the wall. Even his lazy movements look impressively threatening.

"Don't do that," he tells Rin. "You'll only hurt yourself. It won't look good on me if I can't guard you even in a cupboard."

"I can't tell if you're joking or serious," says Rin.

"I'm always serious," Sousuke deadpans.

A beat passes. In the sudden silence that falls, the sound of Sousuke's breathing pulses, steady and constant, through the tiny space that they share. Beneath the dim lighting, his dark, chiselled face is half in shadow, and the line of his jaw seems impossibly stronger, sturdier. The halogen glow from outside falls through the slits of the door and lands on the left side of his face, marking out the hollow of his cheekbone. Rin can't help noticing how the shimmering teal green of his tie matches his eyes perfectly.

 _Shit,_  he thinks, and rests his forehead against the metal door.

"Well," says Sousuke calmly, "at least Nanase left us some food."

Rin lifts his head an inch, just enough to throw a look over his shoulder at Sousuke. He's bent down towards the wooden chest of drawers behind them. "What are you talking about?"

"I thought something smelled fishy," says Sousuke. He picks up a small plate, and holds it out towards Rin.

There are two immaculately presented pieces of _saba_ on it. The delicate scent of miso and mirin wafts beneath their noses. It looks, truly, restaurant-worthy.

"I'm going to kill him," Rin swears. "I fucking hate fish. And why'd he give us only one pair of chopsticks?"

Sousuke, eyebrows raised, merely shrugs in response.

 

* * *

 

The silence had been a novelty for about five minutes, which Rin considers to be something of a personal victory for him. Now, it's just driving him nuts.

"I'm bored," he announces, to his audience of one.

Sousuke, who's been busying himself tinkering with the lock mechanism on the closet door, pauses to shoot him a measured glance.

"We could throwdown for something," he suggests. A little too carefully, casually.

The words stir old memories in Rin, make a lump rise to the back of his throat. It's been years, he realises, since he last heard Sousuke say them, and they sound strange, in his older, deeper voice; he remembers that _throwdown_ delivered like a challenge, full of boyish bravado that belonged to a simpler time.

"Yeah," says Rin. "You're on. What are the stakes?"

"How about… loser has to do anything the winner wants."

Rin, mid-way through forming a fist of his own, stops and stares. Sousuke meets his gaze head on, the faintest hint of a grin playing round the corners of his lips.

Rin grins back. "Interesting."

"I thought you'd think so."

They count in. " _Jan, ken -_ "

Rin watches himself throw out scissors to Sousuke's rock, a second too late, and groans in frustration as Sousuke's grin widens.

"I forgot how you always throw rock," he mutters.

"I don't always throw rock."

"Yeah, you do. Fine. What do you want me to do? It's not like we have a lot of options in this closet."

Unaccountably, Rin feels his face grow hot as he speaks, and he turns away, pretending to find the cupboard's side wall fascinating all of a sudden.

"Hmmm," says Sousuke mildly. "Well. I'll think about it. In the meantime…"

He straightens, tapping on the door with a small frown.

"I don't think this lock will give. Let's just wait."

" _What?_ " Rin cries.

"Nanase said he'd let us out, right? _I'll be back,_ he said. Let's not waste our energies with this."

Sousuke, with infuriating equanimity, steps back and lets out a long, resigned breath.

"You've always been better than me at waiting," Rin says quietly, before he can help it. It's hard, when it's Sousuke, not to revert to old habits of blurting out whatever's on his mind; and it's been just about forever, he knows, since they've had time together like this.

Sousuke smiles. "Well. I've had a lot of practice at it."

 

* * *

 

Time seems to have slowed to a crawl. Only the _tick, tick, tick_ of Sousuke's watch in the tinny, echoing space of this closet tells Rin that it is, in fact, still moving.

At least they're sitting down, now; Sousuke, fed up of Rin's complaints about his sore feet and how he's _still_ got to be on them for another three hours tonight if Haru lets him out in time (and he'd _better_ , or Makoto will kill him), had reluctantly allowed them to sit on top of the drawers after giving them a professional once-over for sturdiness and safety standards.

There's a careful distance in between them. A forearm's length and that plate of _saba_ , still untouched. Rin resolutely refuses to eat it. Sousuke apparently doesn't eat at all.

 _Not on the job,_ he'd said, back when he was first hired and Rin had tried to tempt him with a piece of tonkatsu over a lunch break.

Rin tips his head back with a dull _thunk_ , and groans, rubbing his aching neck. He stretches a leg out and kicks Sousuke in the shin. "Hey. You're not on the job now. You can eat."

"If I'm with you, I'm on the job," says Sousuke.

He's sitting up straight, leaning forward ever so slightly. His hands are clasped in his lap, and beneath the folds of his crisp black jacket, Rin can see that his shoulders are tense.

"Bullshit," Rin retorts. " _I_ say you're not on the job. We're locked in a goddamned cupboard. What's the worst that could happen to me?"

Sousuke shoots him an unexpected smirk.

"Remember the time you went to visit your mom?"

Rin looks away, scowling.

" _We're in Iwatobi, Sousuke, nothing's going to happen to me_ …"

"Hey, I've walked that path near the mountains ten thousand times! I still don't understand _where_ that rock came from!"

Rin punctuates his protest with a purposeful bang of his fist on the drawertop, and earns a sharp rap on his knuckles from Sousuke.

"Don't assault the drawers," Sousuke orders. "You'll hurt yourself. Or you'll break the drawers, and we'll fall. And you'll hurt yourself."

"It's just. That rock was geologically impossible," Rin grumbles.

Sousuke raises an eyebrow at him. "You know a lot about geology?"

"I was a good student! You _know_ that!"

"Well," says Sousuke, "anyway, the point _was_. Who knows when I'll have to save you from a falling boulder again."

"Not in a place like _this_ \- "

"Danger just seems to follow you, Matsuoka Rin," Sousuke murmurs, and the look he gives Rin from the corner of his eye makes Rin's breath catch, suddenly, makes the remainder of his protest die on the tip of his tongue, as he remembers how Sousuke's arms felt around him, that one time.

 

* * *

 

_"Hey. Nanase. Sing with me."_

_"...what?"_

_"I want to sing in the cultural festival. I want us to perform together. You, me, Tachibana..."_

_"It sounds troublesome."_

_"Sing with me. Come on. I promise, I... I'll show you a sight you've never seen before."_

 

Sometimes, Rin finds himself thinking: they all changed.

While he was in Australia, trying, and failing, they all changed. Makoto, Haru, even Nagisa, who still shines bright as the day, but in the manner of someone who's seen the night. _Changes._ Four are now five. Rei, even if Rin has a hard time saying it, binds them together with his unaffected honesty and the way he throws himself into improving at the guitar.

And then there's Sousuke, who moved away when Rin did, and who came back hardened round the edges with his broken wrist barely mended. He smiles, still, with all his old steady warmth. But sometimes - when he thinks Rin's not paying attention -

Sometimes, like _now_ -

He's watching Rin, and he isn't smiling. The look in his eyes is unfathomable.

_I know you changed too, Sousuke -_

_\- why is it so damn hard to talk about it?_

 

* * *

 

"There's something here."

From his perch on the chest of drawers, Rin cracks open an eyelid and gets a full view of Sousuke's jacketed chest looming over him. He smothers his startled sputter with a cough. Sousuke's collarbone peeks out, just behind his undone top button - if Rin reached out, he could hook his fingers through the smooth fabric of that tie, he could -

Rin feels his face grow hot, runs a hand through his hair and tries to breathe. The subtle scent of Sousuke's cologne does nothing to help.

"Huh," says Sousuke.

"What is it?" Rin asks, gaze flicking upwards for a moment. Where the light from the slits falls, he can just about make out what Sousuke's squinting at on the back of the cupboard. There are some faint lines etched into the grey metal.

"Some kind of weird carving. It looks famili - "

Sousuke, mid-sentence, cuts off abruptly and frowns. He takes a step back.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter."

Rin's curiosity is piqued, now. He starts to stand up, and Sousuke, ever vigilant, puts a hand on his shoulder. "Watch your head," he murmurs. "I nearly hit mine."

"You don't have to rub in the fact that you're taller," Rin retorts.

The ghost of a grin crosses Sousuke's face, quick and fleeting. The weight of his touch is familiar. Reassuring.

Rin leans closer, and sees, in full, the carving on the wall.

"Haru," he says, flatly.

"I guess. He's quite an artist," Sousuke admits, sounding disgruntled.

"He really loves this damn mascot. Remember the time he made us watch that movie?"

"You mean, that awful project that his high school's film club made."

"Y'know, if Haru hadn't gone into music, he would've done movies instead," says Rin. "That guy has such a weird imagination. He thinks movies are the best thing since _saba_."

"I know. Movie night was his idea," Sousuke remarks.

Rin shoots him a pointed glare.

"We don't talk about movie night. That was the deal."

"But you love _The Lion King_ , Rin."

" _Sousuke!_ "

"Honestly, I thought you chose the movie."

"That Haru," Rin scowls. "I only watch _The Lion King_ when I'm alone. He knows that."

"It's not like it was a big deal," says Sousuke, with a shrug.

He takes his hand off Rin's shoulder, and sits down again on top of the chest of drawers.

Rin leans back against the wall, hands in pockets. He looks away. Looks at the Iwatobi-chan carved on the wall, and thinks of the movie night they don't talk about, even if it's always somewhere in the back of Rin's mind. In the dim light of the closet, he can't quite figure out if Sousuke's serious ( _I'm always serious_ , he remembers), and to his frustration, he feels a burning blush start up in his neck. They sit, and stand, in a silence that grows strangely companionable after a while's passed, and Rin, in his clumsy way, is the one to break it.

"I'm sorry I ruined your jacket with my snot," he says.

Sousuke sighs. "Rin, it's just me. You can cry into my jacket over _The Lion King_ any time."

Rin looks at him.

From this angle, where he's standing and Sousuke's seated, he gets a good eyeful of those broad shoulders starting to relax, the way that Sousuke's hands rest easily on his lap, and he thinks, maybe - Sousuke's finally let himself go off duty. Just a little.

_It's just me._

Just them.

"I can't handle Mufasa's death scene," Rin murmurs, glancing down at his feet again. It's hard for him to say out loud, even though it's no secret to Sousuke, or, really, to anyone else in the band.

He scuffs a toe on the ground, and rests his weight against the corner of the cupboard.

"I know," says Sousuke simply. "I get it."

And the thing is, Rin knows he does.

 

* * *

 

Sousuke's voice stirs Rin out of the murky stupor of his own boredom.

"I thought of something."

"What?" Rin mumbles.

A few moments of dead silence pass. Sousuke clears his throat, and when he speaks again, there's an odd kind of hesitation in the rough brusqueness of his request.

"Sing for me?"

Rin's head whips around at the speed of light. " _Huh?_ "

He's been busy trying, and failing, not to notice how Sousuke's been fiddling with his tie. It's getting looser round his collar. Beads of sweat are starting to show at the nape of his neck, and his jacket's fallen open now, fully unbuttoned. It is _distracting_ , to say the least.

"I figured out what I want from the bet," says Sousuke. "Sing for me?"

"In a space like _this_? That's… that's really awkward!"

"You sing all the time," Sousuke points out, stubbornly.

"For, like, a thousand people!"

"And that's different from singing for one?"

 _Of course it is_ , Rin wants to protest, but he doesn't know how to put it in words without sounding dumb as hell.

"Give me some time. To, uh," Rin clears his throat. "To warm up."

"We've got time," says Sousuke. Calm. As always.

But it's Sousuke's brand of calm, the kind that's laced with unspoken, magnetic compulsion, a funny sort of urgency tattooed with Rin's name; that presses into the heart of Rin's chest with the rhythmic cadences of Sousuke's voice, and makes him swallow hard and fast.

They've got time, yeah, but -

Sousuke's here and waiting, _right now_.

Rin curses Haru under his breath for what feels like the hundredth time that afternoon.

 

* * *

 

**_intermission_ **

Makoto finds Haru sitting on top of a subwoofer backstage, plucking at the strings of his bass guitar and playing scales to himself. That isn't the worrying part.

The worrying part is that Haru is humming quietly under his breath.

"Haru, what's going on?" asks Makoto, making his way over to the speakers.

Haru doesn't look up. "Makoto."

"Haru?"

"Nothing."

" _Haru._ "

Haru's fingers continue to glide gracefully over his guitar, even as he shoots Makoto a glance that, to anyone else, would've seemed _annoyed_.

Makoto simply leans back against the black velvet curtains and waits, in his infinite patience.

"I locked Rin and Yamazaki in the Dressing Room 4 cupboard," says Haru.

Makoto's mouth falls open. "You did _what?_ "

"I asked them to help me take something heavy from the drawers inside. And when they were both in, I shut the door and locked it."

Makoto lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Haru, I wasn't asking you for an explanation of what _locked in a cupboard_ means."

Haru cocks his head to one side. "Then?"

" _Haru_. You know what I'm asking."

Haru's gaze drifts back downwards as he switches, seamless and flowing, to a medley of chords that Makoto recognises: the chorus to one of their songs, one where Rin has lead vocals. It's catchy, popular and gets a lot of radio airtime. Rin likes it. It's not one of Haru's own favourites.

"Haven't you noticed, Makoto? About them?"

Makoto's not dumb enough to pretend not to know what Haru's talking about. "Well - yeah, of _course_ I have, but, Haru - "

"You know, Rin always looks at Yamazaki in the wings when he sings the romantic lines to this song," says Haru, with a small frown.

"I," Makoto starts, then pauses. "I hadn't noticed _that_."

"You're focusing on singing."

"And you're not focusing on playing?"

"You always throw yourself into it with all your strength," says Haru, and when he looks at Makoto, his expression's serious, his gaze intense. "For me, I just - "

Haru gestures vaguely, then, taking his right hand off the guitar for a moment, and Makoto knows exactly what he means with that easy flick of his wrist. It's just music. _The music is alive. I just play it._

Makoto sighs. "So? What's your idea with this stunt, Haru?"

A small frown appears out round the corners of Haru's lips. "I'm trying to help Rin. But he's so stubborn. Yamazaki too. I tried so many things."

"Wait, Haru - "

A dreadful realisation starts to sink into Makoto's head, and he stares at Haru in abject horror.

"You've been doing all this on purpose? Wait, the _boulder_ , was that you?"

"Yeah. It went so well, too."

" _Haru!_ " Makoto cries. "You could have killed Rin!"

"No, I wouldn't," says Haru, with maddening calm. "Yamazaki was there."

"You could have killed _both_ of them!"

Haru rolls his eyes at him. "Makoto, stop overreacting. They're fine, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but - no, Haru, that's not the point!"

"I have to help Rin," says Haru again.

He turns his gaze back to his guitar strings. His playing slows, and his fingers run over the strings gently, carefully.

Makoto knows that look on Haru's face. It's the look he gets when he's in the zone, when it's just him and the music, and it warms Makoto's heart; he knows too, acutely, the absence of it, remembers the pent-up silences stretched thin and brittle across the years, after Rin left. Just the fleeting reminiscence is almost enough to stir up the old ache, deep within.

"I have to help Rin, because without him, we wouldn't be singing together again like this."

Makoto nods, and smiles. "I know."

Haru smiles back. He strums a few quick chords in succession, absently.

"Still - oh god, Haru, I can't believe you _locked them in a closet_ \- I suppose there isn't some chance you're just saying that, uh, figuratively?"

Haru blinks up at him in blank puzzlement.

"Never mind." Makoto sighs. "Is _this_ what you had in mind that time you asked me about my favourite romcom tropes?"

"Yeah," says Haru, without the slightest hint of shame or self-consciousness. "I wouldn't have been able to come up with any of this myself."

"And you resorted to _that one_?" Makoto groans.

"It was either that, or fake-dating one of them to make the other one jealous."

Haru manages to make this absurd pronouncement with a perfectly straight face, which tips Makoto over the edge into a fit of laughter because, _really_ , he thinks, the whole situation just turned from horrific to so absurd it can't possibly be true, except for the part where it actually _is_.

"Which one would you have chosen?" Makoto manages to ask, in between gasps for breath.

Haru shrugs. "It's not much of a choice. They're both equally annoying."

 

* * *

 

Rin doesn't know how to tell Sousuke that singing for him alone like this is more nervewracking than standing on stage, lost in the glare of the spotlights and the beat of Nagisa's percussion, in Haru's bass and Rei's guitar, in Makoto's voice, smooth like silk and then raw like teenhood in the space of a single verse.

Matsuoka Rin of STYLE FIVE is all glitz and glamour, all sharp, shining teeth behind a dazzling smile and skinny jeans made to flatter his toned body; but Matsuoka Rin, the boy from Iwatobi, is merely a kid with an outrageous dream who's in love with his best friend.

There.

He's finally said it. In his mind, at least.

_I can't believe it took being locked in a goddamn cupboard with this guy to admit it._

"Why singing?" asks Rin. "Of all things…"

"I like your voice," says Sousuke.

He's looking straight at Rin, and it's the most disarming thing in the world because he's got the gentlest smile on his lips. A smile that Rin never sees any more, not these days when they're pop star and security detail - a smile from how they used to be -

 _Oh_ , thinks Rin, _that's just unfair._

He slumps down against the cupboard wall in defeat, and looks up at the carving of Iwatobi-chan mocking him from above.

"What do you want me to sing?"

"Anything you like. I'll even promise not to watch you."

Sousuke leans back, and Rin takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth before he loses his nerve.

With his eyes closed, Sousuke's smile widens as Rin's voice rings out, high and clear and breathy. It echoes off the walls of the closet, his private concert for one. There's a strange intimacy about this, an intimacy that makes Rin's pulse pound, that makes every word that falls from his lips sound sweeter, closer, dearer.

Sousuke's fingers tap the top of the wooden drawers, keeping time for Rin. It's a song they've both heard, many times now; it's one of Rin's own favourite STYLE FIVE songs, and he knows it better than the back of his hand.

"I had a feeling you'd sing this one," Sousuke murmurs.

Rin finds his gaze wandering to Sousuke once more as he sings the chorus. The sound of his voice in his own ears is strained, strained with all the things he wants to say, but can't.

So he pours them into song instead, and sings his heart out.

And then - on the refrain, gradually, quietly at first - then louder, as it gains in confidence -

A second voice joins his on the harmony.

_Ah, it's Sousuke..._

Rin hasn't heard that voice sing out in a long, long time.

It's low. Lower than he remembers. But it suits the Sousuke of _now_ so perfectly that Rin can't imagine it sounding any other way. Rich, mellow and throaty, it blends with his own like shadow in the light, spreads itself out to be the midnight sky to his starlit splendour; and Rin is afraid, almost, to breathe too deeply and break the spell, to end the song.

_Why is everything going blurry?_

_Oh -_

"Rin?"

Sousuke's voice is soft. His touch is softer, and if Rin hadn't blinked away his tears in a hurry, hadn't looked down to see Sousuke reach out and rest his hand on his forearm, he would've thought it was a wayward breeze from the fan outside, wafting in through the slits on the door.

" _God_ ," Rin says, and he hears his own voice shaking. "I don't know what the fuck's wrong with me. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's just me," says Sousuke, with an odd little smile.

Rin looks at him. He sighs.

"Sousuke, I - "

But Sousuke hushes him, then, as he holds his gaze steady. Closes the distance between them, raises his hand slowly, as if in a dream, to brush away a tear with his thumb. His hand lingers on Rin's cheek. There are calluses on his fingertips, and his palm is cool against the heat that stirs within.

Rin, in wonderment, reaches up to clasp that hand in his own as Sousuke starts to lean in.

"I really shouldn't be doing this," Sousuke mutters. "I'm your _bodyguard_ \- "

"Oh, _fuck that_ ," Rin growls impatiently, yanking Sousuke towards him by the collar.

Their lips meet awkwardly in the dark, teeth clashing and noses bumping, in a kiss that feels odd and unreal at first, and then -

And then, as Sousuke relaxes beneath Rin's hand snaking round the back of his neck, very, _very_ real.

 

* * *

 

Rule one of being trapped in a closet with a fuckton of suddenly resolved, _formerly_ UST, and the object of said affections, Rin learns quickly, is that you can hit your head on a lot of things, and it doesn't take long for Sousuke to absolutely forbid anything too vigorous because he'll be fired if Rin walks out of here with a concussion.

Rule two is that every noise is embarrassingly loud in a space this tiny.

"You're hungry," Sousuke states, bluntly.

It's not a question. The low rumbling from Rin's stomach answers it anyway.

"Maybe a little," Rin admits.

Sousuke reaches over to the side, picks up the plate of _saba_ and sticks it in Rin's face. "Eat."

Rin wrinkles his nose. "No. I hate fish."

" _Eat._ That's an order. For your health and safety."

"Sousuke, I'm straddling your lap and you honestly want me to _eat saba_?"

"Yes," says Sousuke, stoic expression unchanging.

"You suck," Rin grumbles.

Sousuke sets the plate down next to him. He tightens his grip round Rin's waist and jerks him forward, suddenly. There's barely an inch of space between their faces, and Rin draws in a sharp intake of breath, rests his weight against Sousuke's chest, and -

Before he has time to react any further, Sousuke picks up the chopsticks, carves out a generous chunk of _saba_ and presses it swiftly to Rin's lips.

"Eat," says Sousuke again, and Rin scowls.

" _Ugh_ \- fine - "

Haru, though Rin would never admit it out loud, is actually an excellent cook and can make _saba_ taste halfway edible. _Still_ , thinks Rin, he'll never understand Haru's obsession with it…

"Oh my god," Rin mumbles round his mouthful of fish, and swallows. "Sousuke. Do you think Haru made _saba_ for us because it's his idea of _romantic_?"

Sousuke stares blankly at him. "What?"

"It's exactly the kind of dumb thing he would do!"

"I don't know what's going on in Nanase's head most of the time, anyway," says Sousuke, frowning.

To Rin's utter mortification, an awful lot of things are starting to fall into place. He's distracted enough that when Sousuke tries to feed him another piece of fish, he takes it without protest. It's only the feel of the chopsticks against his mouth that makes him start.

_So that's why there's only one pair of chopsticks. Fucking -_

"Haru," he says, out loud. "All along - I can't _believe_ \- Sousuke, he _totally_ picked _The Lion King_ on purpose!"

"What?" asks Sousuke, again.

"He knew that I would cry," Rin mutters.

He looks down in an attempt to hide his furious blush. Unfortunately, there's nowhere to look _downward_ except at Sousuke's lap, and the buckle of his belt, and the way his pants hug his very muscular thighs, thighs that Rin's pressed up against right now and _no_ , this was not a good idea -

So he looks up into Sousuke's face instead, and it's very nearly worse because the way Sousuke is looking back at him right now should be _illegal_.

And yeah, okay, maybe none of this would have happened without Haru, but -

 _Still,_ thinks Rin. That's no bloody excuse for Haru to be pushing rocks off mountains at him.

"I'm going to kill him," he swears.

Sousuke brushes a stray trail of soy sauce off Rin's lips, and licks it off his fingers with slow deliberation.

"If it's about killing Nanase, I'd be happy to join you," he says dryly.

"That's not your job," snaps Rin. "You're supposed to be keeping us safe."

"I'll make an exception just for him."

Rin groans as he headdesks into Sousuke's shoulder. He can't tell if Sousuke's serious.

( _I'm always serious_ , he remembers.)

 

* * *

 

"Sousuke?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry Haru's a jerk."

"Why do you have to be sorry for him?"

"Because. He's my friend."

"..."

"Oi. Say something. It's really weird just hearing you _breathe_ in a small space like this."

"Hmm. I'm not really thinking of anything."

"Bullshit. You're doing that _gazing into the distance_ thing, where your eyes get all..."

"All what?"

"Nothing. Can't think of the right word."

"Aren't you the artistic one here?"

"Makoto's the writer. I just sing his lyrics. Hey, where _is_ he, anyway? He's usually on to Haru like a flash - oh _god_ , don't tell me he's in on this too, I'm gonna - "

"Your friends... they're really important to you, aren't they?"

"W-why do you say something like that so suddenly?"

"Why are _you_ blushing?"

"Because it's _embarrassing_ , obviously!"

"Rin. It's one of the things I really love about you."

"..."

"You kept that pendant that I gave you. Before you went to Australia."

"...you noticed?"

"It was the first thing I noticed when we met again."

" _What?_ And you never said anything about it?"

"I didn't have to. I was just happy to see it round your neck. That's all."

"You _dumbass_."

"You romantic."

"Shut _up_."

 

 

 

 

It's an hour to showtime, and Makoto's doing his soundcheck with Rei and Nagisa when his phone buzzes. He takes it out.

He stares, blinks twice in rapid succession and wonders if he needs to put on his glasses.

**_New Message  
_ _From: Haru_ **

Makoto flips open the phone in a hurry.

_thanks. the closet thing worked after all. finally._

The undignified squeak that Makoto lets out is barely audible amid the bustle on stage. Unfortunately, Nagisa's range of hearing is beyond normal human levels.

"Mako-chan? What was that?" he asks, looking up from the drums.

"Nothing," says Makoto, too quickly.

His phone vibrates again, in the palm of his hand. He looks down.

 ** _New Message_**  
**_From: Haru_**  
_if rin tries to ask if you had anything to do with it just deny everything  
_ _ill cover for you dont worry_

"Deny _what_?" Makoto yelps out loud before he realises it.

"Mako- _chan_."

Nagisa's sidled up next to him now, trying - poorly - to make some stealthy attempt at reading the text on his phone. Makoto sighs. There's never any point keeping anything from Nagisa, anyway; he always finds out in the end.

"I'll explain later. There's no time now. Rin will be out any minute - "

Right on cue, Makoto hears an unmistakable set of footsteps thumping their way down from backstage.

"Haru might have, uh, tried to matchmake them. Um, successfully," he mumbles, giving Nagisa what he hopes is a Meaningful Look as he walks over to the microphones in front, and takes his place next to Rin.

"Sorry I'm late," Rin says. "Long story. Haru's fault."

Makoto nods. "Yeah. I figured."

Rin shoots him an accusing glare. He's dressed for the stage, a sight for sore eyes in tight, dark brown pants and a denim jacket, but his cheeks are pink and his hair, usually so impeccable, is dishevelled. Just a little. Enough that the audience won't be able to tell. But to Makoto, who sung side by side with Rin for a long time now, it's clear as day.

" _You_ didn't have anything to do with this, did you?" Rin presses.

"No," says Makoto pleasantly. "All Haru."

Rin starts to scowl as he taps his microphone and murmurs a _one-two-three_ into it, but from the corner of his eye, Makoto sees Sousuke hovering in the wings - sees Rin glance over as well - and the way he smiles, _well_ -

Makoto thinks, Rin himself probably doesn't even know he's smiling like _this_.

He looks over his shoulder at Nagisa, who gives him a huge thumbs up and a wink.

Rei's gaze flickers from Nagisa to Makoto. He leans over, and whispers in Makoto's ear. "Did I miss something?"

Just then, Haru walks coolly out and takes up position behind Rin, pushing past Sousuke on the way without a word. Makoto has to muffle a laugh at the identical death glares that both Sousuke and Rin shoot in Haru's direction.

And as Rin clears his throat, Makoto turns back to Rei with a warm grin.

"Don't worry," he says. "You'll find out soon enough."

 

**Author's Note:**

> God bless the gift to humanity that is Nanase Haruka.
> 
> Thank you once again to the lovely Lexy, who was a great sounding board for ideas, and whom you can thank for _The Lion King_ and Dark Hero Iwatobi-chan (the hero we deserve), among many other things ♥ Honestly so much of this became a Frankenstein-like fusion/evolution of outrageous ideas we both threw at each other I couldn't begin to tell you who was responsible for what. Which is probably for the best.
> 
> Once again, [here's the art that Lexy drew](http://bloomejasmine.tumblr.com/post/129351343295/sourinweek-day-5-paper-style-five-another) to go with this fic, doki-dokis guaranteed.
> 
> You might also like to check out: [LexyLark SouRin Week Collab, Part One](http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/4798490)
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
